Stage fright
In the modern symphony orchestra, the guys at the back, the winds, get lots of nice tunes to play, but actually spend most of their time counting bars. The stress can be considerable; a combination of coming in at the right place, and then playing your bit faultlessly.

The bass clarinet doesn't get much to play, being a rather obscure instrument, and thus spends 99% of its time counting bars.

One particular bass clarinet player had a watch which could measure your heartbeat over a period of time, and he thought it would be interesting to do so in his next concert, printing out the subsequent results on a graph for all to see.

The following week he showed his colleagues the results: as expected, a steady heartbeat for a long period followed by a large, short peak, gradually returning to normal.

Playing in a (good) orchestra
requires one's emotions/ awareness be open like a mainsail, ready to catch the slightest, most subtle of nuances; a never-ending breath of a note from twenty violins sounding perfectly as one; a beautifully executed phrase from a solo flute gracefully, flawlessly handed to the bassoon; a tutti pianissimo with the power to calm the most violent of storms.

I recall the performance where for the duration (hour and a 1/2), due to an unexpected error by an oboist, my stifled laughter had me in the heights of regularly recurring waves of simultaneous giddy pleasure combined with an enforced, necessary, painful and rocking silence; placing me exactly in the middle of the desire to have it never end and the desire to be able to breathe, let alone see.

The oboists's error was a simple lack of concentration due to his extreme dislike of the conductor. The concert order had been changed - the first piece (with the loud opening) had been swapped with the second (with the soft). The ensuing result of his distraction was like... picture the most beautiful of English countryside settings, green, soft, gentle... with a single, solitary, half-second Harpo Marx car-horn like solo. Fortissimo.
(Fri 7th Dec 2012, 13:19, More)

Embarrassed girlfriend
She's Hungarian and she had her friend visiting us in Spain. Hungarian, of course, is a language not frequently spoken abroad so my gf and her friend would constantly gabble away about anything and everything out loud in public.

One day they were standing on a bus going into town when a person of dubious gender got on. Androgynous is the word, I think. So of course they start debating whether this person is male or female. A few stops later "it" made to get off, but not before saying in perfect Hungarian, and a little bitterly, "Actually, I'm a woman."